


New Scars

by stellecraft



Series: Inseperables [19]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Hurt Porthos, M/M, Not explicit really, Porthos gets tortured, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8629075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellecraft/pseuds/stellecraft
Summary: Porthos gets grabbed on a mission.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive in this verse but I need ideas. Feel free to send me some on tumblr (http://stellecraft.tumblr.com/) or leave a comment.

         The kick to his knee dislocated his kneecap and Porthos listed sideways. Only the ropes tied around his wrists held him upright, his arms stretched above his body. He felt one of his shoulders pop out of its socket and let out what could be described as a roar. He held onto his consciousness barely, his body dropping further into the ropes, causing more pain in his shoulder.

         “Where are your friends?”

         “Don’t know what you mean.”

         “You were spotted in the village with a younger man. Brown hair, cocky, devoted to you.” Porthos tensed. D’Artagnan wasn’t supposed to have been spotted. It had been a brush pass as d’Artagnan lifted his wallet holding the information they needed. “Is he someone important to you? I have my men searching for him now. He has some information of mine and I’d like it back.” Porthos hoped to God that d’Artagnan had gotten on his motorbike and gotten out of town the moment Porthos had been taken earlier. He knew the other man had been keeping an eye on him. Aramis and Athos were stationed at a hotel nearby but if d’Artagnan was compromised he wouldn’t go to them.

         A punch landed on Porthos’ gut and he doubled over as much as possible vomiting. Hands pulled his head up and punched him in the face. He felt his lip split. He would have a black eye when he got out of here.

 

* * *

 

 

         D’Artagnan spent the better part of the hour losing his tail. He had eventually ditched the bike and descended into the unused subway tunnels under the city. The residents of the tunnels, mostly the homeless population, guided him along until he was under the hotel he wanted. He made his way up through the service entrance to the tunnels and used the staff hallways and lifts to get to the hotel room he wanted. He knocked and the door popped open. He nearly hit Aramis in the nose thinking it was an attacker who had taken Aramis and Athos.

         “d’Artagnan. What’s wrong.”

         “Porthos was taken.” Aramis tugged d’Artagnan into the room and closed the door, locking all the locks. Athos entered through a door to the bedroom off the sitting room. He spotted d’Artagnan’s anxiety instantly.

         “Porthos?”

         “Taken.” D’Artagnan started toward the gear box cleverly disguised as a suitcase. He opened it and pulled out his gear. As he stripped, Aramis and Athos gathered their own gear. D’Artagnan pulled on the lightweight body armor, the cargo pants with their useful pockets, strapped the vest over his chest and gathered his sniper rifle. He pulled the maps of the building and the plans for the attack that the men who had Porthos were planning in the next few days out of his undercover jacket. He flipped through the blueprints until he found the one he was looking for.

         “There’s a room with one exit, no use as far as I can tell, and enough water pipes going to it to wash the blood of ten people away. If I had to bet, Porthos is being held there. There’s a window up high that you should be able to repel through if I shoot it out first.” The three of them went through the service hallways, badging anyone who tried to stop them. They got into the car in the garage and traveled to outside the city. They dropped d’Artagnan on a hill eight hundred meters away and sped towards the house. It was easy to take out the guards on the outside of the house and free climb to the roof. Once there they secured lines above the window and repelled down so that they were just above the window.

         “d’Artagnan on my count.” He and Aramis pulled the masks over their faces to protect them and readied tear case canisters and flashbangs. “One. Two. Three” The glass shattered and they threw their canisters before dropping into the room.

 

* * *

 

 

         Porthos was going through his third round of torture. After they had figured out that beating him wouldn’t work they had tried to get him to talk by waterboarding him. He had passed out and woken up to find that he was tied up again. There was a portable forge nearby. His tormentor was heating something up in it.

         “Ah, you’re awake. Last chance to tell me what I want to know.” Porthos gathered the little saliva he had in his mouth and spat in the man’s face.

         “Never.” He spotted the red dot on the opposite wall from one of the windows a split second before the glass shattered. His head reeled from the flashbangs and his eyes stung from the tear gas canisters. He let himself hang limply as gunfire erupted and he felt hands reach up and cut the ropes holding him up. Hands pulled him out of the room as the sound of gunfire followed. Something was pressed securely to his eyes and taped into place. The sting of the tear gas lessened and he was pulled along the hall until he was in open air. A second set of hands helped the first set to get him into the backseat of the car.

         “We need to pick up d’Artagnan.” Aramis’ voice was close to him like he was kneeling on the floor. He felt a prick in his arm and cold fluid began to flow into him. “I’m giving him something for the pain but we need to get back to Paris now.”

         “There’s a plane waiting on us on the tarmac at an airstrip fifteen minutes away.” Athos voice was strained and the car slid to a stop. The door opened and closed.

         “How is he?” d’Artagnan’s voice was quiet, still in his sniper headspace.

         “Not good.” There was a siren and the car jolted into motion. Porthos felt whatever Aramis had given him start to pull him into unconsciousness. He let himself fall.

 

* * *

 

 

         Aramis stood next to Porthos’ bedside. The doctors had needed to suction his lungs to get the water from the waterboarding out. He had a dislocated knee cap, a torn meniscus, a dislocated shoulder, multiple fractured ribs, and a fractured arm. His arm was in a sling to keep from moving it and to let his broken bone and shoulder heal. His knee was wrapped in a brace to keep him from moving it too much. His ribs were lightly bound to keep them from shifting.

         “He’ll be fine Aramis.” Aramis turned to see Lemay in the door. “He’s strong. He’ll heal. I’ve seen a whole lot worse.”

         “How long will he unconscious?”

         “We’ll be lifting his sedation tomorrow. He’ll still be on heavy duty pain medication so he’ll be sleepy but he won’t be purposefully unconscious. Now go home. I’ll be here all night and will page you if something happens.” Lemay gripped Aramis’ wrist and pulled him out of the room. “Nurse this man and his partners are banned from the hospital for the next ten hours. Longer if they don’t look rested and well fed when they show up. They are only allowed back in before that if I page them.”

         “Of course Dr. Lemay.” The nurse typed a few commands into her computer. Aramis glared at Lemay and Lemay smiled.

         “I have to take care of the health of all my patients. It would do Porthos no good if you ended up in a bed next to him.”

 

* * *

 

 

         Porthos heard noises around him. Quiet voices. The beep of machines. There was a hand in his and he squeezed it slightly. The conversation around him stopped.

         “Porthos love?” Aramis’ voice was gentle and Porthos squeezed the hand in his again.

         “You found me.”

         “Of course we did.” Athos’s voice sounded like it was above his head. “Come on love. Open your eyes.” Porthos opened his eyes and blinked at the light. Athos was hovering above him smiling. He was holding d’Artagnan’s hand. Aramis was settled on the foot of the bed smiling.

         “How do you feel?” Porthos looked at Lemay who had just walked through the door.

         “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

         “I’m not entirely sure they didn’t. You have broken ribs, a broken arm, dislocated shoulder and knee. You’re bruised all over and I had to suction water out of your lungs. You’re on antibiotics, antivirals, pain medications, and to top it all off you’ll have physical therapy once you’re healed enough.” Lemay walked over and checked a few things before nodding. “You can go home in a few days.”

 

* * *

 

 

         Aramis watched as Porthos hobbled around the room. He was still favoring his knee and his arm was in its sling. He was resistant to help of any kind and it was annoying the rest of them with his stubbornness. Emily trailed after her papa, picking up the things he knocked over. She brought them over to Aramis and dropped them in his lap.

         “Papa’s clumsy.”

         “He has a boo-boo.” Emily instantly walked over to Porthos and pressed a kiss to his knee. She climbed up next to him and pulled her favorite book out of the basket by the couch. Porthos read to her until she fell asleep. Aramis came over and carried the sleeping little girl back to her room. When he got back, Porthos was hunched over in pain slightly. Aramis helped him up and into his bedroom. He settled the larger man on the bed and undid the brace on Porthos’ knee. He grabbed one of the ice packs they kept in the small freezer under Porthos’ bed and draped it over the man’s knee.

         “You need to take it easy love.”

         “I’m not an invalid.”

         “You were tortured. Your body needs a chance to recover from that. Give it that chance instead of pushing yourself to your limits.” Aramis slipped in behind Porthos and began to rub at his scalp and temples. Porthos’ head lolled back onto Aramis’ shoulder and Aramis smiled.

         “I’ll try not to push it, darling.”

         “I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

         Strong hands descended onto d’Artagnan’s shoulders and he moaned appreciatively. He heard Porthos shift above him and felt the pressure on his back shift to just along his one side of his spine. The knot that had been there for months was worked on and released. Porthos worked up and down his spine until all the tension was gone. Hands kneaded his ass and d’Artagnan whimpered. He heard Porthos chuckle above him.

         “Have you been neglected while I’ve been recovering?” His fingers slid between d’Artagnan’s cheeks and tapped the plug nestled there lightly. D’Artagnan jumped and Porthos chuckled again. Porthos shifted to work on his legs and pressed on a sore muscle. D’Artagnan winced and Porthos smoothed his hands over the spot.

         “Mari decided that she was going to use her Kyushu-Jitsu on me and completely immobilized my leg.”

         “She’s fitting in well?”

         “She’s got the rest of the team wrapped around her little finger.” Porthos worked the knot out and moved down to his feet. D’Artagnan’s feet flexed and relaxed when Porthos rubbed them. Porthos continued to work his lover’s body until the man was completely limp. With a quick movement, he pulled d’Artagnan half off the table and pulled the plug out of him. He pressed in with one movement and moaned. He heard d’Artagnan moan and the man arched into him.

         “None of that love. You’ll undo all the work I just did.” He fucked into d’Artagnan with hard thrusts, brushing against his prostate with each thrust. Porthos pressed down on d’Artagnan’s shoulders, holding him to the table when d’Artagnan wiggled. D’Artagnan moaned and tried to press back, but Porthos’ hands stopped him from moving. He felt the pressure building and moaned out Porthos’ name as he came. Porthos’ hips stuttered and he pressed deep into d’Artagnan, coming as well.

         Porthos pulled out of d’Artagnan and carried the other man to his bed. He left and came back with a wet washcloth which he used to clean d’Artagnan up. He threw the washcloth in the direction of the hamper and curled up around his lover. D’Artagnan nuzzled into his neck with a smile.

         “I missed that.”

         “I know love. You feel ok love?” D’Artagnan stretched and smiled.

         “Sore but amazing.”


End file.
